Season Ticket on a One-Way Ride
by TolkienScholar
Summary: Oneshot. Sitting alone in Billy's empty room, Max talks to her brother for the last time. Or maybe, if she's being honest, the only time. [S3-Compliant; Spoilers]


**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Stranger Things**_**. No copyright infringement is intended. The title is a line from the song "Highway to Hell" by AC/DC.**

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**MC4A Challenges:** BAON; FPC; ER; Fence; Star; O3; SN; TY  
**Individual Challenges:** Short Jog (N); New Fandom Smell (N); Booger Breath (N); Rian-Russo Inversion (N); Misunderstood (N); Tissue Warning (N); Interesting Times (N); Themes & Things A – Regret (N); Themes & Things B – Forgiveness (N); Themes & Things C – Deck of Cards (N)  
**Representations:** Max Mayfield; Billy Hargrove; Hargrove Family; Character Death; Grief; Physical Abuse; Verbal/Emotional Abuse; Missed Opportunities; Classic Rock; Highway to Hell  
**Bonus Challenges:** Enfant; Second Verse (Nontraditional, Not a Lamp); Chorus (A Long Dog, Bandstand, Mouth of Babes, Fizzy Lemonade, Odd Feathers)  
**Tertiary Bonus Challenges:** SN (Rail)  
**List (Prompt):** Random Dialogue Ideas #6 ("Listen to me")  
**Summer Bingo Space Address:** 4C – Trip  
**Word Count:** 1045

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Season Ticket on a One-Way Ride

Hey, Billy. It's me. Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm an annoying piece of crap and I should get out of your room and quit bugging you. Tough. You don't get to tell me what to do anymore. Don't like it, should've thought of that before you decided to go and get yourself killed.

It's not gonna be your room for much longer, anyway. Mom and Neil are planning to redo it and turn it into a guest room or something, so I'm supposed to go through your stuff this weekend and see if there's anything I want to keep. I'm kind of afraid to look, to be honest; I really don't wanna know how many porn magazines you've got stashed in here. You're gross, you know that?

They weren't able to salvage the Camaro. I'm really sorry. I tried to talk Mom and Neil into keeping what was left of it, but they said I was being silly and they weren't going to have a wreck sitting in the driveway forever because I felt sentimental about it. I told them maybe if they'd actually cared about you they might have felt sentimental, too. Neil didn't like that, and you know how he gets when he doesn't like something. You know that a lot better than I do. I—I'm just starting to find out.

Anyway, I'm sorry about your car.

School was rough today. Lucas and I are still taking a break, and of course all the other middle school boys think that's their cue to make a move on me every time I turn around. It apparently never occurred to them that I might want a little space after having just lost my brother. It's like nobody thinks I even care. Like they think I _shouldn't_ care.

Obviously they don't. Mom and Neil are already getting rid of your stuff, and even though my friends are all trying to be sympathetic and everything, they're mostly just sad about Hopper. And okay, fine, he was a way better person than you were—even you have to admit that—but you sacrificed yourself to save us, too. I mean, El wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. I don't know, I just think you deserve better than for everyone to basically pretend you never existed. Call me crazy, but…

I still miss you. All the time. It's the weirdest things that make me think of you; like, you'd probably think I was losing my mind if I told you everything that reminds me of you. There's the obvious stuff, like I can't hear an AC/DC song without seeing you in the Camaro slamming your hand on the steering wheel and banging your head back and forth. I never understood how you could listen to it _that loud_. I mean, you realize Bon Scott had pretty much the worst voice ever, right? But you'd have him screaming loud enough to make your ears bleed, and then you'd turn it _up_.

But it's other things, too. I see a guy with a mullet and start comparing it to yours. And no, I am _not_ telling you whether I think yours was better; you're proud enough of it as it is. Or I see somebody smoking a cigarette and think it's you. Or a guy with his shirt off. Or even just somebody with a denim jacket like the one you used to wear all the time. I can't get away from it; it's like everywhere I look, I see you.

I think the craziest thing, though, is how much I miss that stupid car. You were so obsessed with that thing. It's like it was an extension of you; I went and sat in it for a few minutes before they hauled it away, and it sort of felt like you were here again. I thought I even caught a whiff of your cologne under all the fumes and smoke. Probably I was just imagining it, though. Anyway, I wish it hadn't been too trashed for me to be able to start it; somehow it kills me to think I'll never hear that engine again.

Listen to me getting all emotional over some dumb car. If that doesn't prove I'm going crazy I don't know what does.

Actually, I guess the craziest thing is me sitting here trying to talk to you when you're dead, isn't it? 'Cause even if there is a God and we do go somewhere after we die, I think we both know where you ended up. Somehow I doubt God lets the inmates down there listen in on conversations up here. What's that one AC/DC song you liked? "Highway to Hell"? Well if anyone was ever on one, it was definitely you.

But it wasn't your fault, Billy. That's what nobody understands. It's not like you decided one day that you were going to be a horrible person; it's not like you _liked_ making everyone's lives miserable. You were just so miserable yourself that you couldn't take it all, and you had to lash out so other people would feel it, too. It's Neil they should be blaming, not you. He's the one who turned you into what you were. I'd like to see them take all the taunts and insults and beatings you took your whole life, with absolutely nobody to stand up for you, and then see if they turn out any better than you did. You were dealt a crap hand, and you played the cards you were dealt.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is, I forgive you, Billy. I think I forgave you even before all this happened. And Billy… I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry for all the times I knew what Neil was doing to you in the next room and I cowered in my bedroom and did nothing. I'm sorry for not ever trying to stand up for you. I'm sorry I fell for your act and let you make me hate you when I should have just determined I was going to love you anyway. I'm sorry I'm realizing all of this now, too late for it to do any good.

Anyway, for what it's worth… I love you, Billy.


End file.
